The Enumeration of Grief
by The Narrator
Summary: [SPOILER ALERT: Zuko Alone] Human beings go through five stages of grief when faced with Death. Is it the same for a Dragon? [Irohcentric]
1. Prologue

Narrator here. Just to give ya'll fair warning, this fic is unmitagated **_ANGST._** LOTS OF IT. I've always wanted to write an Iroh-centric fic, since he's my favorite character in the series. I'd alway hoped for something witty and sardonic, like him, but then I saw "Zuko Alone." Well, you can guess was happened...

**Narrator:** OMFG, IROH WUZ _ROBBED! _AND HE LOST HIS SON! (begins sobbing uncontrollably)

**Kanashimi: **Shut up, I can't hear the show! (whomps Narrator with pillow)

(ahem!) So, naturally, I felt compelled to write about the story only alluded to in the episode. I'm sure many other (and better authors) will do the same, but I wanted to put forward my own view of the events and Iroh's character.

**Disclaimer:**_Avatar: The Last Airbender _is not mine, and neither is the awesomeness that is Iroh.

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**_Prologue_**

"Hm, you're not even trying, are you?"

A laugh and a shrug. "I've long since given up hope of ever defeating you at your favorite game, Father."

A grin in reply. "You're impatient. And Pai Sho's not merely a game, it's…"

A hand, held up in mock surrender. "Please, Father, if I have to hear one more proverb about the Game of Life, I _will_ go back to my own tent."

A sigh. "But it was a _good_ proverb…"

A teacup emptied and placed to one side. "Father, I think it's time you told me what you really summoned me here tonight."

Another sigh. "So impatient - can't you ever learn take advantage of these rare moments of peace? Very well - as you know, the siege has lasted for five hundred and ninety-eight days. Our army was eight thousand strong when we first made camp around the outer walls - we are now less than six thousand."

A hand reaches across the table in a rare gesture of comfort. "It is the way of sieges, soon they will have to break, soon -"

Another hand, raised for silence. "No. Earth Kingdom armies have cut us off from all but out most indirect and distant supply lines. Even as Ba Sing Sei starves, we starve faster. Even as we draw the trap around them, they and their allies seek to encircle us and crush us into the earth. We will lose this battle."

A breath quickly drawn, in shock and anger. "You're giving up? Why? How can you, Father! Why have we fought these nearly two years, only to give up now?"

A tile idly moved into checkmate - the lotus tile. "I sometimes ask that myself. You know full well that I advised the Fire Lord against this battle. It was too soon, the Earth Kingdom still too strong. But the Fire Lord, my father, would not be swayed. If I would not command the army, he would find someone else, someone who cared more for his favor than strategy, his position in court more than the army he would win it with. And at first, I too believed we might win after all -"

A fist slams on the table, making tiles jump and teacups clatter. "We still can! I was at the front lines just this morning, repelling one of their useless counterattacks! Their will is weakening! Their walls crumble faster than they can shore them up, they -!"

A sigh softer than a whisper halts the tumult. "You see what is in front of you, my son, as a warrior should. As a general, I see that we have lost too many engineers, too many sappers, too many men. We are bleeding ourselves dry, pouring our strength into broken stone the enemy uses as mortar to rebuild their walls. We must withdraw the army to fight another day, or we will be utterly destroyed."

A stillness reigns. "Father, you truly… What is it that I am to do then?"

A ghost of a smile. "Do as you have always done. Lead your men, preserve their lives. I want your regiment to serve as the rear guard as we retreat. An army is at its most vulnerable with its back to the enemy. The other division and regimental commanders have received their orders - the siege will be broken in good order, and not until the very last minute will the enemy be aware that they have won."

A jaw clenched against rash and harsh words. "Very well, General. I will carry out your orders."

A piercing stare across the table. "You are also ordered to stay alive, Luten."

A bitter laugh and a noncommittal shrug. "I can make no such promise."

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And so... on to battle. 


	2. 1: Denial

WARNING: Graphic descriptions of battle wounds. If you've got a queasy stomach, don't read.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it, just a fangirl.

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**_1. Denial_**

"Courier!"

Iroh paused as he was about to mount his rhino. One of his aides moved to intercept the soldier who had burst into the midst of the general's camp, on foot and without armor to encumber his speed. Heaving, gasping for air, the sweat-soaked man handed the aide a short slender roll of parchment before he collapsed where he stood.

Iroh immediately abandoned the rhino. "You!" he said, grabbing the nearest person who happened to be rushing past in the chaotic scramble that is an army preparing for battle, "Get that courier to one of the medical tents!"

The soldier obeyed immediately, but Iroh had already turned to his aide.

"What is the report from the left flank?" Iroh asked, recognizing the seal.

"Sir!" The aide read quickly and efficiently, "General Ogan reports that the line holds steady despite a heavy skirmish a dawn at the second breach. He does not believe the enemy is aware of our retreat, but has ordered a diversionary counter-attack in pursuit of the enemy to ensure the illusion. Colonel Luten has volunteered his regiment and will engage the enemy within the hour. General Ogan and his division will fall back at the arranged ti- "

"What?" Iroh demanded, his face going livid. _'What does that fool Ogan think he's doing? Trying to wring one last drop of glory for himself from his men while he turns tail and runs?'_

"General? General Iroh! What -!"

"Get yourself a rhino," Iroh ordered coldly, already seated on his enormous steed, "We go to the left flank."

Iroh was not even aware of his aide, who rushed away to scramble a company of cavalry to escort the general onto the battlefield. Ignoring his own injunction that soldiers were not expose themselves to unnecessary risk on this last day of the siege, the Dragon of the West galloped into the thick heat of battle.

_'Agni who protects his warriors, let me not be too late!'_

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"General Iroh!" The murk of dust and smoke inhabiting the too-still breach swallowed the call whole, as coughs and wheezing gasps went dead in the ears of the men who struggled to breathe in the poisoned haze. The sounds of the battle near at hand, too, came eerily muffled.

"Luten!" Iroh called, his throat already scratched raw by the abrasive air, "Luten!" Abandoning his rhino, Iroh scrabbled over sand and scree, sending debris rattling and clanging as stones mixed with husks of armor. He knew that more than rock lay beneath his feet, that mixed into the remnants of the once-great wall were the remnants of men, his and the enemies. But he did not care, he _could not_ care - only his son mattered.

_'I'm not too late, I'm not too late, Luten knows better than to be a hero!'_ Panicked self-assurances as streaming eyes scanned the shifting silent smog. Climbing ever nearer into the city that had defeated him, every step closer to hands only too-willing to rip him to shreds for six hundred days of terror.

Only by chance did he notice the twitching of a red-gauntleted hand buried amidst the rubble he had been about to scale. _'Luten!'_ Hope without reason fueled strength beyond his aging muscle. _'Luten!'_

The face, caked with grey dust and blood-mixed clay, could hardly have been called human - at the very least, it was not his son's.

"Where is he?" Iroh demanded, shaking the groaning Fire Nation soldier even as he freed him, "Where is your commanding officer?"

The man's lips moved, breath hissing through a dust-scoured throat. Instead of words, a great crimson bubble surged past his gritted, broken teeth, bursting with obscene slowness to dribble down his chin.

A momentary sanity took hold of Iroh. Gently, he laid the man down against the ground and loosened his breastplate. It only confirmed what he already knew - two knife-like shards of glistening ivory rib jutted from the man's chest. He was beyond the skills of any healer.

"Did we…" A rattling cough, and more blood streamed. Iroh leaned down to hear. "Did we win?"

"Yes, we did - you fought well," Iroh told the man - no, he was hardly more than a boy, now that Iroh allowed himself to look at him, "Your courage will be sung of in the halls of the Fire Lord."

Trembling lips worked into a shadow-smile. "Colonel Luten - is he…?"

"Where did you see him?" Iroh asked sharply.

"Ahead of… ahead… he lead… we… followed…" Suddenly, the soldier's body spasmed, a great rending fit of coughing and dark bloodand choked screams… and then, stillness.

Iroh placed a hand on the boy's forehead and bowed. "I'm sorry - but I must find my son."

The pebbles and stone shifted as he climbed the last hill, into the breach itself. Here, the gritty mist cleared somewhat, here he could breathe and not feel his lungs being scoured away, here he could see even the very greatest and last wall of Ba Sing Sei.

Here, he could see his son, standing in the breach, his face resolutely fixed toward the defiant city...

"Luten!" Iroh called happily, lunging up the last distance between them. "Luten, my son, you -!"

… the single shaft of stone, piercing his son through, so that his feet remained rooted in the earth that had killed him, mocking.

_"LUTEN!"_

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_It can't be true, it can't happen to the one I love. This is just a terrible dream that I can wake up from. This is not true..._


	3. 2: Anger

A short chapter, but hopefully, it says all it needs to...

**Disclaimer:** Don't own the series, don't own Iroh, and thus,I am unhappy. (sighs)

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**_2. Anger_**

"What is that!" the division commander demanded, seeing the breach blossom with a raging inferno.

"Gone!" A soldier, his green uniform scorched, his eyes wide with terror in his blackened face, almost barreled into him, shrieking, "They're gone! They're all gone!"

"Sir!" One of his lookouts, positioned on a great block of stone above, "The two regiments you sent into the breach to support the counter-attack - they're not there!"

"What? That's impossible!"

"Sir, they're not there!"

_'Those bastards - I was right, it wasn't a diversion!'_ "How many?"

"… "

"How many are there, dammit!"

"One, sir…"

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_It's not justice! It's not right! Why did you take him? Why did you take him and not me?_


	4. 3: Bargaining

Another short chapter, but the original idea I had for this would have just not fit with my view of Iroh, soI abandoned it.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, just borrowing the characters for some angsting.

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**_3. Bargaining_**

Let me take his place. If there is a merciful deity in heaven, earth, or hell, let me take his place. Let me see his eyes once more, let me see his face, let me hold him one more time in my arms, alive, whole…

What can I give? What can I take from my own flesh, that he may live again? Answer me, guardians of the Spirit World: what is your price?

_"General Iroh? We must rejoin the army now."_

_"Is that really necessary?"_

_"… Yes, sir. Please, we need you to lead us."_

_"Must I go?"_

_"Yes."_

I want to stay. I want to stay here. I don't want to leave you, abandon you again. Can I ever ask your forgiveness?

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_What currency does Death accept in the exchange for a life?_


	5. 4: Depression

No, I don't consider Iroh to be the suicidal type, but grief can do strange things to people. Please keep that in mind as you read this chapter.

**Disclaimer: **Narrator borrows _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ for the express purpose of _fanfic_, and thus makes no profit. unless you count reviews and the ensuing ego-boost as profit.

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**_4. Depression_**

"General?" The aide swallows nervously, shifting his weight slightly as his lord does not respond.

And then… "Yes?" The voice, normally so vital and strong, capable of shouting orders about the riotous cacophony of pitched battle or laughing heartily at simple jokes, comes forth tired, old… the voice of a man pierced with grief.

"Sir… General Iroh…" The aide is not a young man or inexperienced solider - he knows defeat and grieving and suffering and death as well as any man who had gone through years of campaign, but he never once considered that the famed Dragon of the West could also succumb to the dark and terrible despair of loss.

"Enter, please." The tent's flap is drawn aside and the aide looks down into dark-ringed eyes of amber that belie the energy of the general's welcoming smile. "You have something important to tell me?"

"Sir." A Pai-Sho board has been set up on a short table, the tiles seeming to dance in the flickering light of the single oil lamp. Two cushions on either side, set for two opponents who exist only in the mind of a single man.

In the center of the board, an unsheathed dagger.

"You wished to speak to me?" the general prompts.

The aide tears his eyes away from the table, the game, the blade.

"A message from the Fire Lord."

"Already? The report of the retreat should only have reached him two days ago. I would have thought the order for my execution would have taken another day at least. My father does not waste time." The general chuckles at his own gallows humor, cheerfully breaking the heavy seal. Waiting to be dismissed, the aide once again turns his attention to the gleaming dagger.

The light flickers, the crackle of flame consuming oil the only sound.

"It seems…" He starts, having almost forgotten the general's presence. "It seems that there is another who wastes no time. My father is dead."

"Fire Lord Zulon is dead? Impossible!"

A wry smirk greets this explosion of disbelief. "Fire Lord Ozai commands my presence in the capitol immediately. I am to abandon my army and fetch myself to the palace to receive judgment."

"General Iroh -!" The aide, too long in the service of one man he admires above all others, speaks his mind. "If you leave this army and return to the capitol, your life is forfeit! No one can judge you for retreating from Ba sing Sei, you did it to protect the army, and the Fire Nation! Your younger brother has usurped the throne and will -!"

"My younger brother is now the Fire Lord Ozai," the general interrupts kindly, but with underlying steel, "To speak of him in any other way is to speak treason, and I for one have had enough of senseless death."

"But, General…"

"Have the staff assembled. I will make preparations to hand over command to General Lukka. We have avoided the trap the Earth Kingdom armies set for us, and soon we will reach more comfortable territory. I am no longer needed."

"…" Unbidden, his eyes return to the naked blade.

The general picks it up, cradling the hilt in his palm. "I gave a dagger such as this to my nephew, did you know?" he asks, "The commander of the outer wall surrendered it to me personally. And excellent gift for a growing prince, because of the advice carved into it. This one, however… this one has no advice."

The aide tenses as his general's hand closes about the hilt.

"I give it to you," the general says, holding it out.

_"A more fitting death awaits me,"_ say his eyes as his loyal soldier takes it from him, bows, and leaves to carry out his final orders.

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_I cannot take this pain anymore. _


	6. 5: Acceptance

Last chapter. I couldn't resist getting into the intrigue side of things, so this chapter is a little less personal and character-analytical, but I hope it causes my readers to examine a character's motivation.

**Disclaimer:** None of these other characters are mine - I just play with them. (grin)

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**_5. Acceptance_**

The door to the audience chamber clanged shut; a person given to finding metaphors in daily life would have called it "ominous." The eternal flames ringing the throne of judgment (and the judge seated therein) only served to heighten the already tense sensation of impending doom about to visit the supplicant knelt before it.

Only, this supplicant faced the throne with the straight back and calm eyes of one well aware of the nature of the sentence before the judge utters a word.

"Fire Lord Ozai, you have summoned me, and I am here," Iroh said without ceremony, making the proper motions of respect.

Ozai's smirk, concealed by smoke and flame, came through quite clearly in his voice: "So good of you to deign to come, brother."

Iroh smiled good-naturedly in the face of the patricide. "What is it that the Fire Lord wishes to speak to me about, that he takes me away from my army at a critical hour?" he asked. Only days earlier, he would have rebuked his junior officers for such reckless abandonment of diplomacy.

Only days earlier, however, the world had not yet ended.

"_Your_ army?" the Fire Lord chuckled, the sardonic sound echoing softly through the cavernous hall, "Insolence. Surely you don't believe that all those men and machines are or ever were at your personal disposal. Our dear departed father was surely mistaken to give so much power and so much trust to a general who flees in tears at the loss of his offspring."

Hidden in his lap, Iroh's right hand clenched instinctively, then immediately relaxed. "The siege has failed, yes, because of my shortcomings as a general," he replied in the same measured tone with which he had opened the dialogue, "The decision to retreat was mine alone, and I will bear whatever punishment the Fire Lord sees fit to mete out for my actions."

A telling silence, filled only with the crackle of flames, ensued; the Fire Lord seemed caught off-guard by the display of frankness, which surprised Iroh. "What game do you play, Iroh? Do you believe me to be a fool?" the Fire Lord asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

One had only to look at the frenetic dancing flames to see the anger the soft voice concealed.

Iroh did not flinch, knowing all too well that the conversation would come down to this, sooner or later. "I am sure I do not understand what the Fire Lord asks of me. What game would I play, if I come at his bidding, kneel before his throne without ally or excuse, and beg for his judgment upon me?"

"You would to die at my word so willingly?" the Fire Lord asked rhetorically, rather than the more dangerous question.

"If that is your judgment, so be it," Iroh answered after a pause, beginning to wonder if his brother would ever get to the point. Ozai _did_ have a tendency to delight in the sufferings of those in his power, and though Iroh cared very little about "winning" any debate, he found this habit quite disgusting.

"You are aware that there are those who would see you overthrow me and claim your "rightful place" on this throne," the Fire Lord finally ventured.

Iroh sighed heavily - what usurper eventually did not betray his own awareness of the crime? "It is not I who wears the crown of the Fire Lord. Only the Fire Lord may choose his successor - neither tradition nor the whisperings of the court should sway him, if he believes his decision is for the good of the Fire Nation." Though Iroh suspected this could hardly apply to the current situation, he had the luxury of speaking from personal belief.

His aide's response to the summons had not been the last nor the loudest - more than a few of his staff and sub-commanders had voiced rage and suspicion over the rise of the newest leader of their nation. One had gone so far as to accuse the Fire Lord of murder; Iroh himself stripped the soldier of his rank, but made assurances that the man's family would suffer not reprisals. The potential for civil war was immediate and deadly, and Iroh knew it. He could only pray that his brother would prove to have developed sharper abilities in deception and diplomacy in the years Iroh had pursued the ends of the Fire Nation on the battlefield. The execution of competitors for the throne was a matter of course, but it was an operation that had to be handled delicately and with precision.

For the good of the nation, Iroh would not resist; for the good of his conscience, he would accept the punishment he knew was his due.

"You relinquish any claim you might have to the throne?" The Fire Lord's disbelief and surprise could hardly be more complete.

Usurpers did tend to suffer from the delusion that everyone sought the same power they had gained, Iroh realized. "I never had a desire to rule, as Fire Lord Zulon was well aware," he reminded his brother. To drive the point home (and hopefully, end this farce of a conversation), he continued: "From the throne, one loses touch with the cost in lives and suffering this war demands for the sake of our nation. I chose to become part of it, to always be aware of that cost. The Fire Lord cannot be aware, for he must never yield. Whatever course is the better, I do not know, but I will not surrender one path for another, even given the choice."

The Fire Lord laughed, a harsh, smug bark of a man suddenly reminded that he holds all the power and that his opponent is at his absolute mercy. "Do you seek to lecture me as to my role as Fire Lord? Do you think yourself so virtuous to engage in the dirt of battle that you can judge me? The blood of your men, of you **_son_**, is on _your_ hands and your hands alone!"

Iroh bowed, pleased with the reaction - the conversation was finally back on course. "As you have said. What sentence fits such a crime?"

The Fire Lord paused, as if only just then mulling over the justice he would exact from his brother. "Iroh, you will be stripped of your title of "prince"…" No member of the royal family could be executed for a crime, after all.

_'Luten, I will be seeing you again shortly…'_

"You will surrender command of the army," the Fire Lord continued, "Furthermore, you will come to live here in the palace…"

Iroh started and stared at the Fire Lord in astonishment, caught by surprise for the first time during the proceedings.

The Fire Lord smiled cruelly. "… as my personal advisor. For the good of our nation, I cannot afford to discard so wise and heroic a warrior at this juncture. After all, what fool ruler would execute a man who single-handedly covered the retreat of an entire army from the most powerful Earth Kingdom city in the world, and then delivered that army, intact, through enemy lands to the conquered territories once more? Such brilliance and courage deserves reward."

_'And watching.' _"You are dismissed, General Iroh."

Iroh slowly rose to his feet and bowed heavily. "The Fire Lord is generous," he said, knowing that his brother could not have passed a more stern and cruel punishment.

His brother sneered. "You are not to die, General Iroh, Dragon of the West and hero to our nation. I still have use for you."

Iroh bowed once more, accepting judgment. "I am a servant of the Fire Nation - I will continue to serve it."

"You serve me, now. I _am_ the Fire Nation." A magnanimous wave of the hand ended the conversation.

For now,_" brother_,' Iroh amended for him as he walked back the long way, through the door that opened on his new life of servitude, _'As long as there is need of me here, I will obey.'_

"Uncle! Uncle Iroh! You're back!"

_'Here, there is much need,'_ Iroh admitted, turning to greet his nephew.

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_Life becomes a prison or an endless horizon - the choice is up to you._


	7. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

"Hm, that's an interesting move."

A laugh and a shrug. "Someday, I might be as good as you."

A grin in response. "Why 'someday'? Might as well try for today."

A hand, clenched in a fist. "All right then - I'm going to do it! I'll make up for all those other times you beat me. I've had years to sharpen my skills since I last played you, you know."

A mock-sigh. "Show me what you've learned, then…"

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_When hope springs from mourning, it is all the more beautiful and precious._

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Narrator here. Heh, couldn't resist the epilouge - I thought it would be fitting to have this story come full circle. Iroh's a strong enough character that I hate leaving him all dark and agnsty like that last chapter - besides, we all know he can find happiness when he wants to. Thanks for the reviews.

Salute!


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